


What You Never Expected

by helens78



Series: Matter of Time [19]
Category: Establishment RPF
Genre: Consent Issues, Consent Play, Dubious Consent, Multi, One of My Favorites, Pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-04
Updated: 2005-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-05 11:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason never expected to find someone who understood what his relationship with Liam is all about; hell, he doesn't understand it himself, most of the time.  But when he runs across someone who gets it, he's not going to back away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Never Expected

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the warnings! MoT is full of noncon and brutal semi-con, and this part is no exception.

It's dangerous doing it this way, pressing Jason against his trailer wall, not even waiting to get inside, but Liam needed it and _consent_ is a word that has no place in their relationship. Jason's hands claw at the metal wall for a few seconds before he has to give up and flatten them, concentrate on avoiding screaming. Liam has one arm wrapped around Jason's waist and his other hand, thank God, is pressed against Jason's mouth, cutting off any sound he might make.

Christ, and Liam can go deep like this. Over and over, with his teeth sunk into the side of Jason's neck and his body slamming against Jason's, and there's almost no sound but it feels as though there _should_ be. The sound of flesh against flesh should be loud enough to get attention; the quiet snarl of Liam's growls should be enough to make people raise their eyes and take notice, looking around to see where that's coming from. _Who_ that's coming from.

Jason bites Liam's palm -- _hard_ \-- and if he could shove back against him, he would. But he's trapped, and the bite means so many different things. Not _let me go_. _Give it to me harder, I'm ready to come._

Liam's teeth dig in harder -- Christ, Jason hopes he won't leave marks -- and his thrusts speed up, until Jason can't help screaming into Liam's palm and Liam's growls are loud enough someone must be able to hear them.

Jason comes first because he has to, because there's no way Liam would take the trouble to see that he does. Liam comes with a muffled groan, flattening Jason against the trailer wall.

They're both breathing too hard to hear receding footsteps.

* * *

Carrie-Anne looks up at Jason when he walks back to the set, and her eyes zero in on his neck. He thinks it's a coincidence. It must be a coincidence. He's _not_ walking oddly. He doesn't have a mark. But...

"Is something wrong?" Jason asks.

"No, nothing's wrong. How are you?"

"I'm fine." Jason takes a seat. _Christ, that hurts._ He doesn't wince, though. He's learned to cover for those reactions, savor the discomfort and the pain while making sure no one knows what he's been up to.

No one. Right. Which is why Carrie-Anne's staring at him and can't seem to stop.

"What's the matter?" Jason asks, eyes locking down on hers.

"Nothing," Carrie-Anne insists, glancing away. She bites her lower lip. "Can we talk later?"

* * *

"_Fuck._"

"I'm sorry. But I had to say _something_."

"Well, thank you for fucking asking while we were alone. Jesus Christ. No one else saw?"

"No, God, no, not that I know of. I was the only one anywhere near."

"Christ." Jason presses the heel of his hand against his forehead. "Well, ask, then."

"Ask _what_?"

"If it was what it looked like. If he was--"

"It _wasn't_ what it looked like. Was it?" Carrie-Anne frowns. "I mean -- you covered everything so well when you got back, and..."

"And I get off on it when my lover forces me. Go ahead. Whatever you want to say about it, say it."

Carrie-Anne shakes her head. "Jason, for God's sake. I'm a girl. Do you know how common rape fantasies are for women?"

"No, you don't understand, it's _not_\--" Jason sighs. "The first time, we were at a party, out on this stone balcony, and he bent me over it and fucked me. Didn't ask. Didn't listen to me when I asked him what the fuck he was doing. He just _did_ it." Carrie-Anne makes a soft noise, but it's not quite a word, so Jason goes on. "And the next time it was my turn."

"And you've been like that ever since?" Carrie-Anne whispers. "Is it ever... normal for you?"

"This is normal for us. We just _normally_ don't do it where we can get caught."

Carrie-Anne laughs, but the sound's aborted and it doesn't seem very genuine. "I guess that makes sense."

Jason frowns. "Makes sense? What part of it _makes sense_? Where do you come by the idea that any of it can _make sense_?"

"How long have you been together now?" Carrie-Anne asks.

Jason looks away, rubs his hand over his face. "About four years," he murmurs.

"Well. There's your answer."

Carrie-Anne stands up and heads for the trailer door. Jason's eyebrows draw together. "You're going?" he asks.

"Yep."

"Don't you have anything else to say?"

"What exactly are you looking for?" Carrie-Anne asks, one hand on the trailer doorknob. "Do you want someone to punish you for liking it one step past the edges of consent?"

Jason's mouth drops open for a second, and he laughs. "Maybe," he says. He sits down on the bed, rubs his eyes and sighs hard. "Maybe."

"Well, I'm sorry, Jason, but I don't have the right tools on hand to dole out a proper punishment. And I'm not into public flogging."

Later he'll wonder what the hell got into him, but the words just come out anyway. "What _are_ you into?"

Carrie-Anne grins. "Probably nothing that would shock you," she says. "I'll see you later."

* * *

Acceptance is one of the hottest things one person can offer to another. The fact that Carrie-Anne doesn't look at Jason oddly after their conversation makes Jason pay more attention to her, both on-set and off, and he finds that she's easy to talk to, easy to drink with.

He wonders how easy it would be to take her home with him.

It's a stupid idea. Liam's waiting for him in the hotel room, and he knows better than to be late. Even if she's got her own room and it's nearby, even if he thinks it'd be fast and she wouldn't need him to stay the night--

_Oh, this is not smart. This is not smart at all._

But one night when he's had one too many drinks, he asks anyway.

"Do you want to--?"

"My room. C'mon."

It's so strange being with a woman after all this time -- kissing her and feeling her under his hands, strong muscles and flat planes and rounded curves that fill his hands so perfectly it makes him ache. It's a complicated tango that starts with undressing, another article of clothing goes flying every few steps, and then by the time they're over to the bed they're naked, and Jason shoves Carrie-Anne down on her back and licks up the side of her neck.

"How do you like it?" he whispers.

And she snickers. "When's the last time you asked _that_?"

Jason gapes and then snickers along with her. "I think we took some time off around my birthday last year..."

Carrie-Anne shoves him until he's on his back, straddles his hips and pushes his arms down. "I like it a lot of ways," she murmurs. "You want me to tell you what I fantasize about when I'm here alone and getting off?"

"Oh, fuck, yes," Jason groans, arms twisting under her grip. It makes her pin him down even harder and dig her fingernails in, and though he's pretty sure he could throw her off if he really wanted to -- why the hell would he want _that_?

"I think about you," Carrie-Anne whispers, "on your stomach, ass in the air, hands stretched out in front of you. Tied together, tied down."

Jason blinks a few times and stops rocking his hips up. "You..."

"I think about you," she goes on, "naked, and sometimes blindfolded, but never gagged, because I like to hear begging."

Jason flattens himself against the bed, eyes wide. "Go on."

"I think about me strapping a dildo on, and finding out how all those years with Liam have built up your endurance." She bends down and bites his collarbone, lightly so the prints of her teeth won't show. Jason shivers. "I think about fucking you the way he fucks you, in a place where consent's not an issue and you don't have any choice but to take everything I want to give you."

"Oh, fucking _God_." Jason's hands clench and unclench. "Do you -- can we--"

"Roll the fuck over, boy." And she backs up enough to let him.

Jason scrambles to hands and knees, hands stretched out in front of him, knees spread and arse resting on his heels. Carrie-Anne jerks the nightstand drawer open and grabs cuffs, plain metal handcuffs that she snaps on one wrist, then the other, like she's done it a thousand times before.

He turns his head to the side when she slides out of bed, watches when she puts the harness on and decides on a dildo. The one she picks out has blue and white swirls, angles up nicely, and is nearly as long as Liam. It doesn't look as thick, though.

She gets a small tub of lube out and gets back on the bed, kneeling behind him.

"You know I'm not going to bother asking you to beg," she murmurs. "I really don't give a shit if you want it like this or not. You're cuffed. You're not going anywhere unless I let you."

_Oh, motherfucking God._ "No," Jason breathes, then, stronger, "_no_. Come on. Not this way."

Carrie-Anne drives her fingers into his arse, shoving and _twisting_, and Jason bucks forward, can't help it. Her fingers are so much slimmer than Liam's, and the twist of them makes him wonder if she's trying to make up for that by hurting him more. _Not doing a bad job of it if she is,_ he thinks.

"Please," Jason whispers.

"Oh, shut up." Carrie-Anne doesn't sound the least bit interested. And he can feel the dildo against his hole now, cold and blunt. He groans. "I said _shut up_. Fuck, next time I'll gag you and you won't be able to whine at me. How would you like that?"

_A great fucking lot,_ Jason thinks, and then thought's driven out of his head altogether when she slams in, dildo filling him to the hilt and leather pressed against his arse. "_Fuck--!_"

"Bright boy," Carrie-Anne grins, mocking, and reaches up to sink her fingernails into his shoulder, draw them down his back. She gets a rhythm going that's fast and rough, as painful and punishing as things Liam's given him but entirely different, too, completely different. None of his fantasies have ever put him in this position, on his knees, begging a woman not to fuck him like this, but now he's questioning why. _Why didn't I ever think about this before?_

More than likely it's because he's never had a girlfriend who'd do this for him, never run into a woman who would have thought about it. His hands clench in the cuffs. _Fuck, Christ, don't ever stop._

Brave words. Jason's used to a rhythm that builds up and ends, used to being able to gauge the way a scene's ending from the way Liam gets close, goes over, and collapses. That doesn't happen here. He hears Carrie-Anne's voice grow harsher, hears her panting, that one piercing scream that -- fuck, surely that means she's coming--

_But so what._ She takes a couple of breaths to chuckle and get her hands on his hips, and it starts all over again.

"Jesus..."

"Like I said," Carrie-Anne growls, "_endurance_."

She comes again and doesn't stop. Comes a third time and now Jason _is_ ready to beg, struggling under her grip, hands flexing and clenching and he'd be clawing at the sheets if his hands were free. But if his hands were free he'd be fighting her off him, needing this to _end_, God, he doesn't know if he's torn or bleeding but it _hurts_, hurts enough he can't imagine coming from it (_and how many times have you thought that before?_) and God, this was novel, this was fun and light and easy and now -- now, _Christ_, now he wants her to stop and she's _not stopping_.

"Fuck -- can't--"

"This isn't about what you can or can't do, boy. Have you figured that out yet?"

"No, Jesus, fucking _stop_, I can't--"

"I." Thrust. "Don't." Thrust. "_Care._" And her nails dig in even harder, her thrusts go even sharper somehow, _deeper_, as if she's been saving something for the point where he started to beg.

"Christ, no, fuck, _please_, oh God, _please fucking stop_, no, fuck, I can't, I can't, _please_!"

He's always thought nothing could send a shiver up his spine the way Liam's voice does. But then he's never heard Carrie-Anne laughing while she fucks him, laughing while he begs for her. _Laughing._ Fucking Jesus Christ.

"You want it to stop? Come for me."

"You must be out of your fucking mind--"

Carrie-Anne leans forward, gets a hand on the back of his neck. "Look, bitch, this isn't about what _you_ think you can do or what _you_ think you can give. This doesn't stop until you give me everything I goddamn well _want_, you understand me?"

And Jason loses his grip on words, nodding under her hand, shoving back against the dildo and moaning.

"Good boy," Carrie-Anne whispers, starting to fuck him again, hand still on the back of Jason's neck.

He can't form anything as elegant as words. It's not so much _come for her, you have to, you have to or it won't stop_ as it's a pressure, a demand that comes from the back of his own mind as much as the thrusts of her hips and the hard, unyielding feel of that dildo in him. His hands splay out, and he tries to arch his neck back but he's pinned down and _there_, Christ, _there_, that's perfect, that's what he needs and he comes all over his thighs and his stomach, screaming, winded and trying to suck in air so he can scream even louder, _oh fucking fucking God_\--

\--and she screams right along with him, giving him the last thrusts and then collapsing against his back.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that.

Eventually, though, she pulls out, ignoring the way he hisses and jerks underneath her. She collapses next to him and strokes a fingertip up his arm.

"You probably have to go," she murmurs.

Jason can't speak yet. He shakes his head.

She climbs off the bed and heads for the bathroom. He hears water running, and when she comes back, she has a cool washcloth and she runs it over the back of his neck, down his back, over his thighs. She takes it away and gets his cuffs unlocked, then helps him roll over onto his back so she can clean his cock and thighs and stomach.

He throws an arm over his face. He can't look at her.

There are sounds -- the whisper of fabric, a zipper, sounds that imply she's getting dressed. He finally forces himself to put his arm down, get his eyes open and _look_.

T-shirt and jeans, hair fingercombed out of her way, and God, she's fucking amazing.

"You need any help?" she asks softly.

Jason takes a deep breath. He can move. He's done this before and gotten a lot less care afterward. "No." He shakes his head. "Thanks."

He dresses fast. Liam's going to wonder where he's been, and Jason's not sure whether telling him would be the right thing to do or not.

"If you need anything--" Carrie-Anne shrugs, halfway smiles. "Anyway. This was..."

"I know." Jason dries his palms off on the fronts of his trousers. "I'll see you."

"Mm-hm."

* * *

Carrie-Anne's curled up on the couch in her hotel room reading when there's a knock at the door. She raises an eyebrow, marks her page and sets her book down. _Jason?_ she thinks. Jason didn't forget anything. She looked.

She opens the door.

And looks up.

"I don't think we've been introduced," he says, offering her a hand. "Liam Neeson."

"Carrie-Anne Moss," she tells him, staring down at where their hands are joined. _God._

"I'll understand if you don't invite me in," he says quietly, "but I think we've got something to talk about."

Carrie-Anne looks at him for a few seconds, thinking that over.

"You're right," she murmurs. "If I tell you--" God, what's the best way to phrase this? "If I tell you I don't want you to come in. _If_ I said that. Would it make a difference?"

Liam grins.

"Not in the least."

Carrie-Anne holds the door open for him as he comes in out of the hallway.

_-end-_


End file.
